


see sam run

by spock



Series: points verse [2]
Category: Caprica (TV)
Genre: Cohabitation, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Moving In Together, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's lucky that he's handy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see sam run

Whenever Sam hints at taking things to _the next level_ , Larry laughs. In his face. Obnoxiously.

Larry's easygoing attitude towards Sam's job had led Sam to believe that he was at least semi-okay with the lifestyle, maybe had family in the Ha'la'tha or an ex who'd been a member — which, while something Sam didn't want to think all that much about, is something that he'd been willing to come to terms with, as long as he never found out who hypothetical bastard was. 

Turns out Larry doesn't have a problem with the H'la'tha in itself, but he does has a rule about not dating anyone in it.

Which is why Sam has just spent the better part of his day lounging around Larry's place. Or, what would have been lounging if Larry wasn't the biggest frakking sadist in existence. He'd make the toughest Tauron warrior weep, easy. He asks Sam to do odd jobs around the house, ones that he's perfectly capable of doing himself, but would rather have Sam do as a type of quasi-punishment for his alliances. Larry likes to say that he makes Sam do these things because Sam insists on spending so much time loitering around his place, but Sam thinks it's because Larry gets off on seeing him all sweaty. Fix a wobbly chair leg, a stuck drawer, a leaky fixture: a never-ending list of not- _quite_ -hard tasks. Sam feels like he's on a quest, just like the heroes in the stories they tell kids.

"Why bother getting emotionally attached when you've basically got an expiration date stamped on you?" Larry had said the first time he told, — _told_! — Sam to fix something for him. "You're lucky that you're handy, Sam," he always said and once, after a look of consideration, "and that you have a pretty face." Sam wanted to argue that all those things were all the more reason not to wait, that he wanted to get fucked _sometime_ before he died, but a little voice inside his head told him that voicing those thoughts would've been the worst thing possible to say, so he just kept his stupid mouth shut. Besides, Larry always played things close to his chest, so him inadvertently admitting that he found Sam hot was a blessing in itself. Sam walked around with his shirt off a lot more after that.

All things considered, he doesn't mind. Sam's place is only good for one thing: sleeping. He's always spent as little as time possible there, even before Larry. 

That's what his life has turned into: _Before Larry_ and _After Larry_. 

Larry's, on the other hand, is homey, masculine, warm, _lived-in_. Sam loves it there, so he doesn't mind being Larry's manservant — and isn't that a nice thought? Being Larry's slave.

So here they are, eight months in and Sam's just recently gotten past heavy petting. All of his friends laugh at him and congratulate him on his new vow of celibacy before they start in on bragging about all their recent conquests and litanies of one night stands. Sam flips them off and prays to the gods that they get an STI. (When Lycaon takes a sabbatical one day because he has to go to the doctor to _get this thing checked out_ , it makes Sam's day.) Larry's the biggest cocktease in the history of cockteases, but Sam's patient; he can outlast Larry. The gods always favor those on a righteous path.

They've been on too many dates to count these past few months. Sam's reconnaissance skills renown across the city and he's employed them to get a PhD in Larry. He knows that Larry's favorite color is green —Sam's wardrobe has been drastically modified and now consists of mainly green pieces of clothing in addition to his usual gray, white, and black —and that he's an only child, but has a frakload of cousins; that he can afford a better neighborhood than this one, but he likes it here because it's the perfect distance from all of the places he frequently visits. He can't sleep past eleven in the morning and he goes through five hundred page _plus_ books like candy. Sam knows that no matter how nonchalant Larry acts about their relationship, Larry's already admitted to himself that he's going to be with Sam for a while, but he's too stubborn to concede —a man after Sam's own heart — which is why he's making Sam work for it. Sam's okay with that; he gets to win battles, as well as the war.

Sam told Larry, after they'd been dating for a month, that he was going to marry him. The smart ass declaration did nothing to help his cause, but the look of resigned adoration on his face — Larry's words; to this day Sam claims it was loving obsession but, semantics — face as he kicked Sam out of his apartment was totally worth it.

Sam finishes up his current task — fixing the window in Larry's bedroom that had constantly stuck and refused to open. This was not what Sam had in mind when Larry told him he _had a problem_ in his bedroom, one that only Sam could take care of — and plops down on the couch, pushing his face into Larry's thigh, groaning. Any other time the sound would be exaggerated, but in this moment, it's completely heartfelt. 

Larry laughs and runs his hand though Sam's hair, manhandles Sam until he's on his back with Larry blanketed over his body. He lets all of his weight rest on Sam until they're sealed together, and Sam can feel Larry's half-hard cock pressing into his hip. Sam wants him to stay there forever, where he can keep his arms wrapped around Larry — keep him where he slots against Sam so perfectly.

Sam clamps an arm around Larry's waist, digs his nails into Larry's back. Larry crushes their mouthes together and sucks hard on Sam's lower lip. Sam returns the gesture, frakking Larry's mouth with his tongue. Larry's eyes are closed like he's using every other sense to experience this. Sam twists their bodies a bit so he can reach Larry's neck. He presses wet, open-mouth kisses against the bare skin he finds there, gently nipping on Larry's adam's apple as he makes his way down to suck bruising marks along his collar bone, the noises spilling from Larry's throat spurring him on.

Larry can never stay passive for long. He raises himself up onto his haunches and pulls his t-shirt over his head. His elegant fingers make quick work of Sam's button-down and THE next thing Sam knows Larry's back on him, kissing his way down his chest. He takes hiS time to lick all of Sam's tattoos and sucks hickies on top of them. Sam runs his hands up and down Larry's sides, his head thrashing back and forth.

Sam tangles his hands in Larry's hair and brings his head back up so it's level with his own, pushing their lips together again. They make out like teenagers--teeth clashing and tongues messily fighting for dominance. Sam wraps his legs tightly around Larry's waist, dragging his hands down his back and squeezing his ass. Sam kisses Larry until his dick aches and then keeps going.

Eventually Larry takes pity on him and his big hands settle on Sam's hips. Sam loves this part, when Larry takes control of everything. Gentle yet filled with raw strength. Their lips don't part as Larry frees their erections from their pants.

"Need you," Larry mumbles, low, husky, enough to make Sam buck his hips and arch his back and groan and nod and _want_. He wraps his hand around both of them, enclosing them both in his firm grip. His hand moves rapidly, finding a rhythm that suits them both. He only breaks it to randomly stroke his thumb at the base of Sam's cock or to rub their shared precum back into their slits, just the way Sam likes it. It drives him insane; he'd be thrashing if Larry wasn't pinning him down.

Larry can tell Sam's close, so he speeds up, jacking them hard and relentless, chanting _SamSamSam_ like it's the only thing he knows. Sam would make a smart comment about it, but his own world has been narrowed down to a litany of _LarryLarryLarry_ for the past twenty minutes — maybe even longer than that; maybe since the beginning.

Suddenly Larry tenses up and with a hoarse shout of, "Gods _Sam_!" he comes over both of them, and that's all Sam needs to push himself over the edge. He feels Larry's body more than his own. The way his muscles tense up and then relax, spasming back and forth between the two.

They lay there for a while, catching their breaths and basking the dregs of their orgasms — Sam relishing in the sweaty heat he can feel where their bodies touch. After a while, Larry tucks his head underneath Sam's, right into his neck, in a way that rubs his hair against Sam's neck and cheek. He does this whenever he doesn't want Sam to see his face, read his emotions. Sometimes he'll walk halfway across the apartment and stick his face there, or turn his body a full ninety degrees when they're catching a movie to do it, even though it's so dark that Sam couldn't see his face even if he wanted to.

"Do you want to stay?" Larry asks his neck. Sam makes a noise in this throat in confirmation; there's no way he's getting up after an orgasm like that. "No, I mean--" he sighs and then pulls his face out of Sam's neck. Looks him in the eye and says, "Would you like to move in with me?"

Sam has just be transported into a parallel universe.

"No," he blurts out and Larry's face becomes carefully blank. "No!" he shouts this time, letting his mouth catch up with his brain. "Not like that. Yes, gods, yes, I want to move in with you. But not _here_. I want us to pick out a place together. A place that's ours—Larry, are you _laughing_!?"

Larry laughs so hard he flips himself off the couch, nearly dragging Sam down with him. After he calms down he smiles up at Sam who is completely lost at this point.

"Care to share with the class?"

Larry shakes his head and picks himself up, holding out a hand to help Sam up. After he gets them both vertical, Larry kisses the corners of Sam's mouth and tucks them both back into their pants. Larry's so _weird_. (Sam doesn't want to think about what that makes him.)

They make their way into the bedroom, and Larry stripes down and changes into his pajama bottoms, slipping into and bed dismissing Sam for the night. Sam takes his time, folding his pants and shirt. Sam had taken to sleeping naked in hopes of getting Larry to move things along quicker, and found that he actually liked sleeping in the nude.

He still wants to know what had gotten Larry so giggly, but he knows better than to ask — he can guess, but with Larry, _nothing_ is a sure thing. He'll probably never know; Larry won't tell until he thinks it's worth Sam knowing.

He gets into bed and curls up behind Larry, using his slight advantage in height that enables him to be the 'big spoon'. Right before he loses consciousness he feels Larry shift. Sam knew this was going to happen.

"Sam."

He mutters to himself in Tauronese.

"Get me some se'tru'la, would you?"

He sighs, already psyching himself up to get out of bed and thinking about the closest stores and the quickest way to get there. "You don't have any, Larry. We finished them off four day's ago."

" _We_ don't have any," Larry corrects. Oh gods, what has Sam agreed to? "Make yourself useful and run and get some."

Sam looks at the clock. It's 11:37 p.m. The grocery stores are still open. Things always work out like that for Larry. "Yes dear," he grumbles, and with that, he rolls out of bed, flicks on the bedside lamp, and goes to slip on his pants.

There are three things in life that will never change: taxes, the H'la'tha, & Larry.


End file.
